


Stall

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 20:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11020998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: At the moment, Aragorn’s too weary to face the depth of his love.





	Stall

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for calenefite’s “14. “Just please be my best friend right now, not the guy I just confessed my love to.” Aragorn/Legolas.” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/160417565360/prompt-list).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

His neck’s stiff and sorer than the rest of him—he finds himself massaging it all the way up to his quarters. Under normal circumstances, he might stop to see if Elrond could fix him with a quick flick of the wrist, but now Elrond has greater things to attend to. Things Aragorn wouldn’t dare disturb. So he heads only to his own quarters, looking, at least, quite forward to the comfort of his own bed. He just wants to collapse on it and be swallowed up in safe dreams. 

Finally reaching his door, he twists the handle with an exhausted sigh. At least he knows it will be ready for him—Lindir always has the place spotless, no matter how long he’s been gone. He slips inside, ready to pass out the second he reaches the mattress, but instead, he pauses halfway across the carpet. The room isn’t empty.

Facing inward, his chair is turned around at his desk. Legolas lounges in it, the moonlight streaming in through the windows to halo him from behind. He looks as beautiful as ever, more so in the softness of Aragorn’s quarters, though his robes are that of a simple traveler instead of the grand prince he is. Aragorn’s breath catches just to look at him. Aragorn murmurs, “ _Legolas_...” as though this is a dream.

“Estel,” Legolas coyly returns, his head tilting to the side. It makes his golden hair trickle further down his shoulder. “I received your letter... although, I must admit surprise that it came in such a form. Surely you could have confessed your love in person, for you must have known I felt the same.”

A flush comes onto Aragorn’s cheeks—he can feel the sudden warmth and uncharacteristic rush of embarrassment. In all the danger, he’d forgotten. He tries to explain, “I had meant to ride forth, actually, the moment I resolved to say it all. ...But Gandalf had other plans, and alas, I feared that should the worst befall me, I should make sure at least that you knew. I had hoped to return to you when able, but...” He simply trails off: the rest requires more than he has the energy to comb through.

A light frown’s touched Legolas’ fair lips. It doesn’t look quite _right_ on his handsome features, or perhaps that’s just Aragorn always wanting him to be happy. He repeats carefully, “‘The worst’...you say that as if you are not always wandering into one danger or another, but to make it sound as the end... what troubles you?”

As if made newly conscious of the weight about his shoulders, Aragorn shifts them. His body is stiff, battered, and in sore need of sleep, though it’s the first time he’s ever been in Legolas’ presence and not craved something more. It’s a true, frightening testament to the power of the Enemy. It almost pains Aragorn to have to explain it to such a lovely creature, but he knows, now that Legolas is here at the same time as the ring, he’ll be told it all eventually. Shaking his shaggy head, Aragorn reminds himself that Legolas must have heard _some_ news and only explains for now, “It has been a long, bitter journey for one so small, and I have already come to care for the Halflings. No doubt you have heard tidings of this, and I will introduce them when I get a chance, but for now, I will say at least that I have grown very close to one of them. And if Elrond is unable to save him...” Aragorn doesn’t even want to say it aloud and give life to the thought. Instead, he lifts his hands to rub at his tired eyes. 

When he looks up from them, Legolas is soft and sympathetic. It melts Aragorn on the spot. He sighs, “At any other time, I would’ve _loved_ to run into your embrace, to kiss you with all the feeling I’ve held in over the years, and to ravish you properly as our strength would allow. But...” his voice wavers, dropping with that _want_ that lives in him, even now, “right now... I think I need a friend more than the man I just confessed my love to.”

A gentle smile flitters across Legolas’ ageless face. He dips his head and promises, “Then you shall have it. I will always be your friend, Aragorn, even if we should become lovers as well. I will be anything you need.”

He rises, then, and drifts across the room like a swan on water. Aragorn is entranced and almost regrets his words. Legolas is irresistible, but Legolas doesn’t come into his arms as he half expects, only collects his hand and lifts it for a chaste kiss across the knuckles. Legolas guides Aragorn by it towards the bed, closing the last few steps. He gives a little shove to Aragorn’s shoulders, and Aragorn obeys the silent command, sinking onto the plush mattress. 

Legolas bids him in a voice like a lullaby, “Just rest for now. I will fetch you some water, and I will see what word comes from Lord Elrond.” Aragorn almost lets out a little laugh.

“Are you a sure you are not a Maia?” he checks, full of admiration. “You are kind, wise, and certainly beautiful enough.”

Legolas laughs even more delightedly. He leans forward to kiss Aragorn’s forehead, not far from the customs of Aragorn’s people. He murmurs warm across Aragorn’s skin, “I am whatever my Estel should wish. Now rest. I will return to my own quarters when I am finished, or here, if you want company, though I swear not to disturb you in the slightest.”

“Or tempt me?” Aragorn asks around a yawn. He’s sure he’s ready to collapse, but he’s drawn too much to Legolas to let himself. Legolas nods with a grin and sinks gracefully to his knees, only to tug at Aragorn’s boot. Aragorn lets Legolas pull both off and set them aside, then depart.

As he places his hand on the door, Aragorn calls, “Return to me, please.” It isn’t difficult to decide. He’s spent many peaceful nights simply lying side by side with Legolas, though always in the wilderness and never a bed. He doesn’t think anything will be more likely to heal him. Legolas smiles at him and nods.


End file.
